Ninety-Three Percent Stardust
by otterlyardent
Summary: Often, when a person falls for someone, they can't remember the exact moment it all changed. But that wasn't the case for Draco Malfoy. The moment had forever been emblazoned in his memory. Written for DFW's Never Apologising For Our Wild Nikita Gill Challenge in response to Gill's "93 Percent Stardust."


It was only a set of stairs.

At least, that's what Draco Malfoy kept trying to tell himself.

In reality, one of the worst night's of his entire life happened at the top of those very stairs, and the idea of climbing them made him break out in a cold, sickly sweat. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd been thinking of, taking Astronomy after the events of his sixth year. And by the looks he received from his fellow classmates, it was clear his presence wasn't exactly _welcomed._

A deep breath and shaky exhale later, the pale Slytherin placed his hand on the safety rail, feeling the beads of sweat on his palm slide against the wood. His pulse tripled. His vision narrowed. He wouldn't make it. That much was clear. When his breathing became laboured and fast, and his head began to swim, hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

He didn't deserve to be here.

He shouldn't have returned.

No matter what anyone said, Hogwarts was no longer his home. It felt alien and nefarious — with unforeseen dangers lurking around every corner. He'd done too much, _seen _too much.

It was all just _too much._

A soft sound beside him, a polite clearing of a throat, shocked him out of his downward spiral so forcibly he flinched.

"Malfoy?" Draco heard her, but the sound seemed muffled and tinny. He looked to his left and swallowed hard. Eyes forward, as if she _knew _he couldn't withstand her stare at the present moment, stood Hermione Granger. Painful, piercing screams echoed throughout his mind and he was forced to tear his eyes away, blinking rapidly to clear away the onslaught of horrific memories from last Easter.

"Granger," his voice cracked over the vowels in her name, weak from disuse and clogged with panic and tears.

"I'm going to walk up these stairs," she said with all the confidence and surety of a woman who had never been, nor would ever be, a monster like him. "And you are going to walk with me. Am I understood?"

He wasn't proud of the sound that escaped him, something close to a whimper with the edges of a growl. That was the moment she turned her whiskey coloured eyes on him and all the breath left his lungs in a rush.

"You can do this. I know you can." He didn't deserve her sympathy, nor her compassion, but would graciously accept it regardless. "Let's go."

o~O~o

Often, when a person falls for someone, they can't remember the exact moment it all changed. But that wasn't the case for Draco Malfoy. The moment had forever been emblazoned in his memory. He'd been in the Wizengamot chambers for what felt like centuries, barely hearing everything going on around him as he wondered how long it would take for him to lose his mind in Azkaban. So lost in thought, he hadn't heard her name being called, nor the shocked gasps that echoed throughout the suffocating room. But when her gentle voice began passionately arguing for why he _shouldn't_ be held accountable for his actions, everything else seemed to fade away.

He lifted his eyes and felt his heart stop.

Everything changed.

Draco had questioned blood purity before, because of the very same witch, but finally seeing — and feeling — her grace and kindness, it was enough to leave a permanent mark on his heart and, as much as it terrified him, he wouldn't have it any other way.

After that, it seemed as if there were a million reasons to love the Muggle-born witch, and he felt rather stupid he hadn't quite figured it all out before. He'd always had a kind of unhealthy fascination with Granger, if he was honest with himself, but brushed it off as merely wanting to know why she was _so _different — how she could blast her way through everything he'd been raised to believe so effortlessly.

That day on the stairs was just another drop in the bucket. He climbed higher and higher with her wordlessly, endlessly grateful for the witch he'd been merciless towards for as long as he'd known her. She owed him nothing; in fact, she had more reasons to hate him than anyone else. Hope springs eternal, of course, and that moment lit a fire in his belly. One day, hopefully soon, he'd tell her how much her kindness meant, and how she'd changed not only his way of thinking but his very life.

As they reached the tower and entered their classroom, and she walked away without as much as a glance in his direction, he couldn't help but think she would never accept him, or his affections.

o~O~o

There was definitely something different about Malfoy.

Hermione was used to his abrasive and demanding persona, but the war had changed everyone in their own way, and maybe — just maybe — it had a profound effect on him as well. Only a few days into what would be considered their eighth and final year, she'd been a few feet behind him on her way to the library when a first-year Gryffindor had been roughly bumped into and the poor girl's books had gone flying across the stone floor.

Before the witch could take a step forward and offer her assistance, Malfoy had already knelt down and begun collecting the books, handing them back to the first year with a charming half-smile. Hermione had felt frozen in place, only able to blink and stare long after he'd continued on his way. After that, her eyes were often drawn to his lanky form, whenever he was near, and her mental list of changes kept growing. He rarely spoke, often only when spoken to — and very few people gave the Slytherin the time of day. He often looked lost and sad, something that made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

His own house seemed to ignore his presence, and that seemed to get under her skin and chafe uncomfortably. If she, the so-called princess of Gryffindor could understand he had been a boy in an impossible situation, why couldn't anyone else? Still, she tried to keep her distance — until the day she found him at the foot of the stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower. She'd paused, watching as he seemed to unravel before her very eyes, and knew she had to do something. Part of her wanted to offer him some comfort, ask if he'd like to sit together — but years of abuse had left her wary, so she'd just walked away once they reached their class.

But she would stand at the foot of the stairs and wait for him before each class, unwilling to let him face them alone.

They never spoke. Just climbed in silence and separated when they'd reach the top.

On more than one occasion, she'd had to bite her tongue to keep from peppering him with questions.

And as summer faded into autumn, and autumn to winter, they began to share lingering glances in the other's direction. The small smile that would curve his lips when he'd see her waiting? Butterflies, at least a thousand of them, would go crazy inside her stomach at the sight of it. Instead of studying for her classes in the library, she often found herself studying him instead. With each and every passing day, Hermione's curiosity would grow.

Had he changed? Had his beliefs? Was he a different person now? Should she just give him a chance? And what did she really have to lose in doing so?

Still, something kept her from taking that chance.

She wasn't sure she could withstand it if she were wrong and he rebuffed her.

So, Hermione would watch and wonder, and drive herself half-mad — what else was there to do?

o~O~o

Watching the shadows grow and expand as the sun made its nightly descent below the horizon, the curly-haired witch worried her bottom lip. She knew Professor Sinistra would want everyone to pair off this evening, and begin charting the stars together — and she couldn't help but glance to her right, where Malfoy seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Was he worried? The other students, for the most part, seemed to ignore his presence entirely.

The only thing she was sure of was that she wouldn't allow him to be made a fool of.

"Malfoy?" Hermione murmured, striving for casual.

"Yes, Granger?" He responded, pausing briefly to cast a look in her direction before resuming their climb.

"Well, we're meant to be charting this evening, and I thought perhaps you'd like to work together?" With her heart in her throat, she waited for his response.

Malfoy came to a complete stop and turned the full force of his pewter eyes on her, seemingly studying her face. She attempted to offer an encouraging smile, which caused his brows to furrow.

"You don't have to do this, you know?"

Hermione didn't like the sombre quality of his voice.

"Do what?" She demanded, shifting so she could see him fully as well.

"Partner with me out of pity? Rescue me on a near-constant basis? I don't deserve this kindness, Granger — I've never done anything to deserve it."

His honesty pierced her heart and left a hollow kind of ache in the centre of her chest.

"It's not pity, Malfoy," Hermione sighed. "Honestly, it's not," she reiterated when he gave her a disbelieving look. "This isn't the first time I've considered trying to talk to you. Every time I see you in the library, I think about it. I just didn't know how well it would be received."

"Because I've always been such a prat," Malfoy nodded and turned, beginning to climb once again. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand why you've done what you have for me — at my trial… here. I've treated you horribly over the course of the last eight years, and you never deserved any of it. Even now, you're offering me kindness so I won't have to end up having our professor step in and force someone to work with me this evening. Aren't you exhausted, Granger?"

With yet another gusty sigh, Hermione followed his lead and continued their hike up the winding stairwell.

"In first year," she began quietly, "before I realized exactly what being Muggle-born meant, both to myself and others, I had high hopes we could be friends. You were obviously smart and well-read, and let's face it, I didn't exactly fit in back then. People in my own house hated my 'know-it-all' tendencies and swotty ways. I don't know, I thought you were interesting — no matter what Ron's opinions were — and imagined we would get along swimmingly. But, we both know how that went."

The tall blond nodded, reeling slightly from her admission.

"I've been thinking about that a lot recently," she continued. "We're very similar the two of us, in all the ways that count anyway. And I'm a firm believer in second chances, so why not? The only thing that held me back was not knowing how you might react. I never liked to show how much your words hurt me when we were younger, and each time I thought about approaching you, all I could imagine was that mean boy returning and making me feel stupid for ever thinking things could be different."

This time, she reached out and placed a trembling hand on his arm to stop him in his tracks.

"But you _have _changed, Malfoy. I've seen it. And I hate to see you all alone, all the time. Especially when I might be able to make a difference. So, no. I don't pity you and I'm not exhausted — I want to be your friend if you'll have me. And I'm slightly scared of how you might feel about that."

Hermione could feel the heat of her blush spreading from her cheeks down her throat to her chest, but stood her ground — losing herself momentarily in the swirl of emotions dancing in his expressive eyes. His mouth opened as if he were going to speak and then closed before he looked down at the hand still resting on his arm.

"I'm not sure how to be a friend if I'm being honest." The witch felt her heart sink and began to pull away before his eyes snapped back to hers, freezing her in place. "But I'd like to try."

Her slow smile in response felt brighter than the sun.

o~O~o

Walking into the Astronomy Tower side by side, and not parting ways immediately, felt as exciting as it did strange, but the wide-eyed and open-mouthed stares from their fellow classmates chafed. Hermione couldn't help but raise a defiant brow at every witch and wizard that seemed to forget their manners. Her heart stuttered a few beats when Malfoy graciously pulled out the chair for her before sliding into his own. Professor Sinistra eyed the unlikely pair with a small, benign smirk before ordering everyone else to pair up for the duration of the lesson.

It took a while, with several awkward hiccups, but eventually, Hermione and Draco sat side by side looking up at the night sky in all its glory. The witch couldn't help but feel impressed by the Slytherin's knowledge, as Malfoy pointed out constellation after constellation and offered a little backstory into each one. Every time he'd point to somewhere new, her stomach would dip and her pulse would soar. There was something incredibly sexy about a man with knowledge.

"You know," Hermione whispered later, as the sounds of scratching pencils and the wind sounded in the background, "we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. We have more in common than anyone would like to think."

Still staring up at the night sky, a wide smile split Malfoy's face. Casually, he leaned in close to witch seated beside him and placed his lips next to her ear, "93 per cent stardust, with souls made of flames, we're all just stars that have people names."

A pleasurable shiver ran down the witch's spine and her cheeks bloomed pink, but she couldn't help but snicker quietly at his words.

"What?" Malfoy scoffed, turning his attention to the curly-haired Gryffindor with a raised brow.

"Nothing, nothing!" Hermione quietly reassured through her bout of laughter. "It's just…" She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "You're a person with a star name. It tickled me is all."

"Oh," Malfoy murmured with a furrowed brow. "Well, yes…"

She was surprised to see his usual alabaster skin turn a delicate pink hue — both his cheeks and the tips of his ears. A pang of sympathy hit her square in her chest and without another thought, Hermione covered his hand with her own.

"It's a lovely name though," she whispered with eyes full of sincerity. "Draco."

If she hadn't witnessed it herself, she would never have believed Draco Malfoy was even capable of blushing — but his cheeks darkened at her compliment and a coy grin curved his lips before he dropped his chin to chest.

"Thanks, Granger," he murmured almost bashfully, once again turning the full force of his eyes on the unsuspecting witch. She both heard and felt her breath hitch as his free hand came to rest atop her own. "Feels like high praise coming from someone named after a Shakespeare character."

"You know Shakespeare?" Hermione asked, blinking owlishly at him in surprise while a thousand butterflies took flight inside her belly.

A slow, devastating smirk and the gentle brush of his thumb across her hand was his only response.


End file.
